Pack Mentality
by xXMrMittens
Summary: The end of the world has happened. There is nothing left for one girl, except for the companionship of her two canines, Buck and Fury. She will forever fight to keep them alive. But when fate gives her a cruel twist by introducing a Hunter into her life, she's not sure what's what anymore. Rated M for language and gore! No pairings! Please rate and review for better chapters!
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Note: I will outright admit that I am fully new at writing stories. The only experience I have is that I have a year of English Education under my belt, but that's about it. So please, lemme know what you think and what I can do to improve! This will hopefully be my first long-term story, and I would like for it to be at least readable~_**

**Chapter One: Introductions**

Fuck it was hot. I couldn't even remember the last time it was this humid; combined with that damned smell of rotting flesh and vomit brought the occasional bile to the back of my throat. The sun glared down upon the apocalyptic wasteland now known as Chicago, the wind no longer blowing to grace it's subjects with it's presence. Maybe it felt that the world no longer needed it, now that nearly all of it's denizens were either dead or near-death?

I wiped my forehead with the back of my forearm, my dull, green eyes staring bleakly ahead. I didn't like the heat, not at all. Stripped down to only the necessary layers of clothing, I pulled my hair back into a low ponytail, hoping to fan some air onto the back of my neck. Sweat clung to my tee and jeans, I could feel it dripping down and taste the sweat. It made me feel...gross. I made a grimace; I did not like to feel gross. Glancing around the decrepid remains of the once-bustling city, I let out a sigh. Humanity was gone, and was never coming back, that was for sure. But I wasn't alone, no. I had no human companions to keep me company, too risky in my opinion, but I had the two best friends I could ever have; a coonhound named Buck and a pit bull named Fury. Thankfully, these two caused less of a presence than an entire group of survivors. Animals didn't seem to warrant much attention from the infected.

That reminds me, I nearly forgot my name. My name is Eliza, and I am one of the last remaining humans on the face of the planet. Or at least I think I am. I'm short, around 5 feet 4 inches, I used to be a good 140 pounds but now I've lost a ton of weight. I think I'm around 100. Not sure. I used to be an average adult before the infection; paid my bills on time, drove to work, went to vet school, the works. I had a family, that was now dead. My mother and sister, infected; my father, crushed by a Charger. Somehow I had managed to escape the infection, despite being bled on, bitten, scratched, puked on. I guess by this point it's safe to assume I'm immune. Now, I spend my days running from safehouse to safehouse, worrying about my two companions more than anything. I've killed many people, and I'm certainly not proud of it. While I know they're infected, I take no joy in killing, but they certainly take joy in trying to harm me.  
Glancing at Buck and Fury, they merely seemed to smile in their doggy ways. They had no idea of the gravity of the situation; for them, ignorance truly was bliss. We were simply on an adventure. While things were quiet, I preened over both of them, removing any ticks, fleas, and just giving them a patdown to comfort them. Buck was the older of the two, a solid 7 year old coonhound, and a damn good one at that. There was nothing he couldn't find, pills, medkits, weapons, food, anything that was needed, and he seemed to have a good sense as to what I needed. If I was hurt, off he would go to find a medkit. I would worry, but I know the infected wouldn't really hurt him, as they didn't see him as an enemy. When it came to fights, however, he didn't like to hurt anybody. But don't take that as him being a coward, he would fight if backed into a corner. He prefered to sniff out a horde miles away, and lead me around them. Fury, on the other hand, was my tough-guy, a 2 year old American pit bull. If he thought I was even in the slightest bit of danger, he'd take on a Tank in the face. I watched him take out so many Infected before I could even get my fireaxe in their neck. He hated the Infected; to him, they weren't people. He liked people, how he loved it when we met other Survivors, but these things weren't people. I guess maybe the virus just made them inhuman to him. But if Buck and I were avoiding a group, he'd always reluctantly trudge along. Both of them were good boys, and I owed my very lives to them. So I always made sure that they were well taken care of, even if it meant I went to sleep without food.

Sighing, I glanced back out at the deserted road. Not a common to be seen, thank goodness. It's too hot for that nonsense, I silently thought to myself. Buck and Fury must have thought so too, both were as relaxed as I had ever seen them. My thoughts turned immediately back to finding the next safehouse, as I was sure both of them were as thirsty as I was.

"C'mon, you two", I muttered to them. "Let's get."  
My limbs groaned and my muscles screamed for me to sit back down, but I ignored the aches, starting to trudge along the sidewalk, my two dogs at my side, my hand on my knife. Just in case.

It had been hours since we had taken a sitdown break, so my muscles were too sore to even complain anymore when night finally fell in the deserted city. And just like the desert sun, once nighttime fell, it chilled. Badly. Thankfully I had a spare hoodie in my bag and had it wrapped around me in seconds. My companions stuck close to me; the infected thrived in the darkness and neither of them wanted to stray far away. I couldn't detect much movement, but did make a mental note of the car that still seemed to be blinking. It had an alarm, great care must be taken to avoid it.

Buck suddenly began to whimper, my head jolting back forwards, watching a small group of infected just sitting around. One of them emptied it's stomach contents right in between it's legs, sniffed promptly, and just laid down in it. I had to hold down the rising urge to vomit myself. Fury's fur began to prickle, a near-silent growl emitting from him. Placing a single hand on him, it was my way of saying to stay put. Looking past the infected, I caught a glimpse of the bright red, metal door. A safe house! We were so close, I could taste it! There didn't seem to be a way around the infected, so I would have to do this the hard way.

I raised my hand from Fury's back and issued a single command.

"Kill."

Within half a second, Fury's cry of war rang out and his jaws latched into the throat of the nearest infected. The others watched with half-hearted interest, until they saw me. Anger surged through them and they all bolted towards me. Fingers clenched tightly around my axe, I swung it up into the air and brought it down with a sickening crack into another's skull. Screams of hatred filled the road as the infected plopped down with a silent thud, forever cured of the infection and life itself. One swing after another left gaping wounds in the infected, but they seemed not to mind, continuing to swarm us. Fury had already disemboweled three infected and was latching onto another, when I heard a shrill giggle.

"Jockey!" I cried, right as the monster leapt at me, giggling his delight.

Buck leapt to intercept, headbutting the creature off-course and clamping his jaws around the Jockey's throat, giving one swift tug. It laid dead, that ghastly smile still plastered on it's face.

"Nice one Buck!" I grinned, which was soon erased when the world seemed to go quiet. And all I heard was the shrill beeps of the car alarm.  
An infected had stumbled against it in it's death, and had set it off, alerting the horde.

"Shit..c'mon!" I grabbed Buck and Fury by their collars, as the roars of the infected followed us closely behind, along with the pounding of several hundred shoes upon the pavement. There would be no way for us to fight that, it was too much for one person and two dogs. We made a mad dash towards the safe room, as some of the faster infected managed to catch up to us, digging their bloodied fingers into my back and arms. The pain escalated, but I knew we'd be in a world of hurt if we didn't get into the safe room.  
The door kept getting closer. I grinned to myself..we were going to make it!  
Until the Smoker decided otherwise.

Before it even bellowed it's arrival, I felt the slimy appendage wrap itself around my foot and jerk me backwards, towards the arms of death. I screamed, both in distate and fear. But the infected didn't count on Fury's speed and strength. Barreling through the faster infected that managed to catch up to me, he locked his jaws around the appendage as it snapped in half, the Smoker yelling his disapproval at losing one of his tongues. That didn't matter, I pulled myself up and sprinted with Fury towards the safe house, locking it behind me. Gasping, listening to the pounding of the infected.  
We managed to escape. Thank heavens.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, so switching gears to make for easier storytelling! I will eventually rewrite the first chapter to go along with this, but I'm changing viewpoints until I get the hang of first-person.  
Read, rate, and review, please!**

The door slammed shut with a satisfying and solid clang, locked into place with an iron bar. No way anything was getting through it now. Taking deep and heavy breaths, Eliza pressed her back against the saferoom door and slid onto her rear, axe clattering to her side. Buck and Fury lay collapsed onto the cold cement, panting to cool themselves down.

"We...made it.." she gasped, shivering at the difference of temperature in the safe room. Buck whimpered, crawling towards her and licking a bead of sweat off her cheek. She smiled slightly, scratching his ears in an attempt to soothe him. Fury, on the other hand, had already curled up into a pile of clothing in the corner. Shaking herself out of her adrenaline-rush, she forced herself back onto her feet. Scolding her aching muscles screaming their mutiny, in every safe room she was to check Buck and Fury for any major injuries.

Crouching over Buck, her hands slid down his sides. Nothing felt abnormal, thank goodness. He showed no signs of limping, either. He had escaped relatively unharmed. Hobbling over to Fury, she repeated the process. He, on the other hand, had gotten some deep cuts from dealing with the claws of the Infected. A couple bite marks around his lower back, too. Those would need disinfecting and time to scab over, so it was decided that they would rest a while before venturing to the next saferoom. Provided that a Tank decided not to show.

Silently thanking the stars that animals seemed unaffected by the virus, or at least her two dogs were, she reached for her medkit on her back. Clicking the latches open, she pulled a wrap of gauze and tape, along with several disinfecting wipes. Fury knew that she was to bandage him, so he closed his eyes and waited for the sting.

"Sorry, sweetie," she muttered, before pressing the wipe to the side of the deepest cut along his shoulder. He flinched, growling once, but otherwise remained silent as she worked. Wanting to save the tape, only the deeper wounds were covered, the bite marks disinfected and left to air dry. Fortunately, they did not seem to be that deep, only minor scrapes. Finished with her handiwork, she ignored the outrage cry of pain from her own legs and started to search the saferoom, Buck following closely behind her, nose peeled.

The saferoom had been raided before her, but they didn't take everything. Eliza had found a spare medkit, Buck turning up with a bottle of pills. She had even managed to find some leftover bags of cereal and chips. Wasn't as good as the saferoom before Chicago; hell, there she managed to find a whole box of still-fresh Hostess chocolate doughnuts and a lukewarm cola! But you take what you get, she supposed.

Plopping back onto her rear near the pile of clothing that Fury had managed to curl himself into, Buck quickly doing the same, she munched on the bag of chips. It wouldn't please her snarling stomach much, but it would help to quiet it. She poured half of the bag into a spare plastic container laying around and set it in front of the two canines, them half-heartedly nibbling at it. It wasn't food for them, but they had to eat something. Eliza would have to venture into the wilds to find some sort of meat to sustain them. It would be dangerous though, with Fury healing from his wounds and Buck not really having any fighting spirit.

Feeling her eyes droop, she laid down into the nest of clothing next to her companions, exhaustion taking her quickly.

The peak of darkness. A prime time for one Special Infected breed. Hunters; the meanest, nastiest, and most brutal Infected you could find. Excluding the Tank, that is. Sizewise, they weren't comparable to the other Infected. But what made them so deadly was their ability to plan, to calculate their moves. Their sense of self-preservation. They weren't ones to recklessly charge into battle; no, they preferred to wait until the Horde managed to cut off a Survivor from the rest of their group before lunging from the heavens and ending their lives for good in the most gruesome way possible.

In the cold night air, a small pack of Hunters had managed to kill off a couple stray Survivors and began their feast. The common Infected growled their displeasure, but none dared to venture closer to the kill until the Hunters had their fill. The largest one, the obvious alpha of the group, leaned his head up to the night sky, blood dripping down his chin. His nose twitched once, possibly smelling something of interest, before leaning down and resuming his feast. While the three bigger Hunters fed, one strayed back from the pack. His dark blue hoodie had no fresh blood. Even his duct tape had no traces of blood. He paced back and forth anxiously, growling and whining. He did not eat until his superiors had their fill, that was the law of their pack. Because he was the smallest.

Finally, the alpha grunted in satisfaction. He was full, and withdrew from the shredded corpse. The smaller Hunter crawled forward, whining in submission. The alpha paid him no notice, and simply sauntered away. Assuming that meant he could eat now, he leapt towards the remains and dug in wholeheartedly. The fresh meat tasted so good on his tongue, he couldn't help but let out a slight whimper of satisfaction. Eating his fill, he rejoined his alpha and his other packmates, leaping off into the night.

The alpha suddenly stopped, snarling. The smaller Hunter glanced ahead, noting the line of yellow that highlighted the horizon; the sun was coming up. And if Hunters hated anything more than Survivors, it was the sun. The group split immediately, heading towards their separate dens to sleep for the night. The smaller Hunter bounded towards his, until something stopped him dead in his tracks. Sitting back on his haunces, he raised his nose into the air and sniffed several times. There was something in his den, but he wasn't sure what it was. It had the smell of Survivor, but of other Hunters as well. There was only one way to find out. He wriggled his flexible body beneath a small flap that led into the backroom of the saferoom. Upon entering the mainroom, he paused.

Laying next to two creatures was...a female Hunter? No, it couldn't be, why would she have her hood down? And why would she be asleep at this time? This was prime hunting time!  
Nose twitching, taking in the female's scent, he crawled closer towards her, uttering small, barely audible growls.

One of the creatures that laid next to her was suddenly on it's feet, snarling right back at him. His hackles raised and his eyes full of hatred. The female had opened her eyes.

**And here we introduce our little Hunter! He will eventually have a name, so we won't keep calling him just The Hunter. That's just not dignified enough. Yes, he would be considered the omega of the group. He's the lowest on the totem pole. And this pack we're introduced to now isn't even his full pack! We will certainly get to know the rest of the Hunters too, but next time, we'll see how the little Hunter reacts to Eliza, Buck, and Fury. I'm sure Fury won't be too happy.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's**** Note:  
Here's your third chapter! Nothing much else, just read, rate, and review!**

All she could feel was the deep, throaty growls resonating through the saferoom. It was too dark to see anything, and the chill of the night air sent goosebumps down spines. Breath caught in her throat, refusing to grace her lungs with its presence. Something was in the saferoom, and it had Fury infuriated.

Buck had managed to flee into the nearest corner, huddled and shaking. Fury, meanwhile, stood on all fours with his hackles raised, fur prickling on his neck. Eliza remained glued to the spot, unable to command her body to move. Her ears caught something else though; a separate growl not from Fury and a nearly inaudible clicking of nails hitting the concrete. Whatever it was, was approaching her.

A ray of light peeked through the single window of the saferoom, illuminating a hand near her foot. It was a pale gray, coated with semi-moist blood. But what caught her attention, and had her heart ramming against her sternum, were the fingernails that had grown into the likeliness of animal claws. Coupled with the deep growl, her mind only spoke one word.

Hunter.

The faint outline of the Hunter was crouching in front of her, ready to strike. With the morning's rays, the lower half of his face was illuminated, revealing a bloodied maw. His nose constantly twitched, mouth opened. More than likely taking her scent in.

Eliza blinked. The Hunter...was confused, maybe? Or, noting the drying blood around his mouth, he had eaten recently and just was not interested in hunting her. Or maybe Fury had intimidated him not to leap and rip her guts out. It had to be Fury; Hunters loved the thrill of killing.

After what seemed like minutes, the Hunter reached out one bloodied hand towards her, crooning softly. Was he..calling to her? It was hard to tell over Fury's increased snarls. Placing a single hand on his shoulder, she whispered, "Quiet," and he fell silent. Being a pit bull, Fury, she always proudly told others, was very well trained. He disobeyed no command without hesitation. Even though his eyes reeked of hatred towards the Hunter, he silenced his threatening vocals.

She sat there observing the Hunter with a wary eye, ready to sick Fury onto him if he dared to leap. While his thick calves certainly seemed ready to strike, clawed hand clicking against the floor, he merely sat there, hand outstretched and whining softly. Keeping her eyes on the Hunter, she leaned sideways and grabbed her axe by the blade. Maneuvering it towards the Hunter, she pushed the butt of the handle against his stomach, forcing him to sit down. He merely stared at her, or at least she felt his gaze on her.

The Hunter, meanwhile, sat in confusion. Why was the female not responding to his call? True, he didn't recognize her, and she probably didn't recognize him. Maybe she already had a mate and would respond to no one else? No, he would have smelled it with her..strange scent. She smelled only of the two creatures, one of them pelting him with audible threats and posing aggressively. He seemed to be protecting the female, his alpha. The Hunter furrowed his brow; was she the alpha of this pack? If that was the case, then she made a stupid decision to come into his nest. He would have to teach her a lesson.

Suddenly, the Hunter rolled onto all fours, leaping forward with an earsplitting screech. Before Eliza even had time to react, Fury met the Hunter in midair, colliding with him with a sickening thud. The Hunter screeched in pain as Fury's jaws locked around the Hunter's shoulder, digging into it. The hoodie he wore only slightly muffled the pain, as Fury's jaw locked into place. The Hunter clawed at Fury's sides, kicking at his abdomen in an attempt to get him off. Fury would not be moved, anger and hatred fueling his bite and desire to stay on, to rip off the arm of the creature that dared to attack his owner.

However, Fury did not count on the Hunter's claws managing to reach his face. A single claw jabbed into his right eye socket and sliced backwards, effectively destroying the eye. Fury howled in pain, before realizing his mistake in letting go. The Hunter had him pinned in less than a second, arms and hands raised to reveal his internal organs to the world.  
Until a bloodied crack echoed in the saferoom and the Hunter screamed in agony, rolling off Fury to clutch at the gaping wound on his shoulder.

Eliza stood behind where the Hunter once was, gripping her fireaxe. The blade dripped with fresh, although blackened, blood. While Fury was distracting the Hunter, Eliza had managed to pull herself together and grabbed her fireaxe, whacking the Hunter in the shoulder where Fury had managed to tear up the hoodie enough for the axe to reach skin. In an ironic twist, she pinned the Hunter to the cement, handle pressed firmly against the Hunter's neck as he whined and cried in pain, blood pooling around him.

"Do...not...touch...my...dog," she snarled between pants.  
The Hunter merely whimpered in response.

She stood up and stepped away from him, as he limped to the nearest corner to lick his wounds. Her concern was Fury. Running hands down his sides and around his limbs, he had suffered more serious injuries than before. His eye had been ripped from it's socket, effectively leaving him blind. The cuts from before were shredded open and twice as deep. Blood stained his fur, his tail wagging slightly as if to reassure her that he would be okay.

Sighing, Eliza merely went to work disinfecting the wounds, cleaning up the blood, and wrapping him up. It took much longer than before, and now her dog had become a canine pirate. After working on him, she picked him up and carried him back to the pile of clothing, where Buck managed to crawl back and lick her hand, tail tucked between his legs. She smiled; Buck had been so frightened that he hid himself the entire time. Or maybe she was too busy dealing with the Hunter to notice him do anything. Either way, both of them were okay. One was badly injured, but okay. She sat down beside Fury, stroking him gently.

While she couldn't see his face, she knew the Hunter was watching her with the most hateful glare. If looks could kill, she would be dead by now.

**Oh no, Fury! D:  
Don't worry, she's not planning on killing the Hunter. She's somewhat perplexed why the Hunter didn't outright attack her. So I guess curiosity will eventually kill the cat!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**

**Whew! This one took longer, but I think it's worth it! Again, lemme know what you think!**

High noon. The smell of rank corpses wafted through the saferoom. Eliza thought she was used to the smell by now, but with no fresh blood or adrenaline distracting her from it, it took all of her willpower to not vomit what little food she had in her system. Back pressed against one of the walls, hoodie shed for more air around her limbs, she absently stroked at Buck, whose head laid in her lap. Both of her canine companions were sound asleep, and one intruder watched her warily.

It had been a few hours since the incident, of a Hunter attempting to maul Fury. But what perplexed her was the fact that the Hunter didn't attack them right away. Instead, he had reached for her and seemingly called for her. It was only when she didn't respond to him that he attacked. Mind swimming, she thought of many possibilities. Maybe the Hunter merely thought she was a female Hunter and wanted to try to communicate, but quickly figured out she was a Survivor? The hoodie she wore that night did make her look near-identical to one, especially in the dark saferoom. She merely thanked her stars that Fury had been quicker than she was and had knocked the Hunter off-course in his jump, which even she had to admit was impressive.

Head turned towards the infected, she merely stared at it. The Hunter's gaze was hidden underneath the shadow of his hood, but a soft growl told her that he was still awake. Eyes moving towards his shoulder, she managed to catch a glimpse of the injury she and Fury had given him. A deep gash, coated with dried blood and dotted with teeth marks where Fury had shredded his flesh. His hoodie was absolutely ruined, which left nothing to the imagination anymore. His skin was the pale-gray of all infected, covered in boils, bruises, and scratches where he had fought previously. His abdomen had a nice sculp to it, an eight-pack. Would make any teenage girl scream in ecstasy, if he wasn't infected. Or maybe they would now, people were weird.

She chuckled to herself, as the Hunter stiffened a bit at the sound she made. He acted a lot like Fury did when she first met him. He wasn't very sociable, and semi-aggressive, but with rigorous training and heavy socialization, he managed to pull past that and be one of the best dogs she had ever owned. After a few seconds, the Hunter loosened up, but his claws remained flexed. Turning his head, he attempted to reach the wound with no success, and uttered small whimpers of pain and frustration. Her heart melted at the poor thing.

But her brain was screaming at her. 'Are you nuts?! That's a goddamn Hunter! He'll kill you as soon as look at you and eat you for breakfast!'  
Maybe this one wouldn't. At first she thought that all zombies went for the kill no matter what. But this one didn't, at least not at first. Maybe he just needed a little helping hand.

Eliza pushed Buck's head off her lap and laid it down gently. He didn't move or respond; he was in too deep of sleep to notice. The same with Fury, as he made no gesture to her standing or even a sound. But the Hunter sure did. His snarls increased, as he backed himself into the corner, attempting to make himself smaller to avoid her. She had seen this behavior plenty of times; most in which the pet was too frightened because it was by itself, so it acted aggressively to scare away whatever frightened it. It never really acted upon it though. Crossing her fingers, she hoped for the best, and crouched in front of him, bringing her eye-level.

The Hunter closed his mouth, but deep growls resonated through his body. His back was flat against the wall, sitting on his haunches, glaring firmly at Eliza. She merely took her hand and held it palm-up towards him, a way of greeting him. He tilted his head slightly, before leaning down and sniffing at her wrist. Smiling, she fought to contain her excitement. Yes, yes, this was good!

Her excitement was dashed when he reached up a clawed hand and merely batted it away, turning his back onto her and into the corner. Sighing and clearing her throat, she decided to encourage him with her voice, hoping that somehow he understood.

"Hey there, big guy," she said, as the Hunter froze. Another grin creeped onto her face. He knew that she spoke! Maybe he did understand! He turned sideways, watching her from the corner of his eye.

"I'm..sorry about last night. Fury, the one who bit you, doesn't really like people like you."  
The Hunter merely grunted in response, and reached forward, patting her knee. Excitement shot through her like lightning; was he saying it was okay? Or apologizing himself?

She cleared her throat again, and motioned towards the spare health kit and her bag. "I can heal you, you know."

The Hunter snarled viciously, turning back around to face the corner. He was telling her to go away. 'Fine,' she thought, sighing again and standing up. Turning, she saw that Buck had awakened and was sitting next to the health kit with a single paw on it. He pushed it slightly towards her, mouth agape and tongue hanging out, panting. Nodding, she grabbed it and dug into her bag, pulling out some string, thread and a needle. It would have to do for that gash; there would be no way it would heal unless it was stitched up.

Creeping towards the Hunter, Buck following closely behind her, she paused and licked her lips. This would be tough to restrain a full-grown Hunter, but if she could restrain a Great Dane, then she could restrain anything. Taking short, quick breaths, she launched herself towards the Hunter. With a screech of protest, she pinned him to the floor by sitting on his hips. Buck laid down on his legs to prevent him from kicking, and Eliza had maneuvered his hands to be tied in front of him, and flipped him onto his stomach. She decided that she would work from the back, where he was less likely to bite her. Ignoring his screams and cries, she pressed her hands gently onto his head to stop him from thrasing around. It was one of the strangest ways that she had ever restrained anything, but without anyone to help her, it would have to do. Hoping to calm him down, she scratched lightly between his shoulder blades. His roars reduced to a rumbling growl; deciding that was good enough, she got to work.

"I am so sorry about this," she muttered, pulling a wipe from the medkit. He flinched in pain when the wipe touched the side of the gash and yelped, but made no attempt to throw her off. Cleaning the wound of the dried blood and disinfecting the bite marks, she threw it aside and reached for the needle. Leaning over him, the needle began to poke through his skin. His growls had quickly transformed into pitiful whines and whimpers, teeth scraping against the side of her hand holding the gash closed. He made no attempt to full-out bite her though; she assumed that meant he knew she was just trying to help. Still didn't mean he liked it. Closer to the Hunter's face, she managed to sneak a peek at what laid under the shadows.

His eyes were gone; that was the first thing she noticed. Scars covered where his eyes used to be and all around his face. And his smell, oh gods. With every hot breath he gave off, he smelled just like rotting flesh, but he wasn't cold like a corpse. No, he was burning up. Eliza had to remind herself that they weren't zombies, just people with a form of rabies. Shaking it off, she continued to make mental He had the beginning of a stubble; his nose was constantly twitching. High cheekbones, sharp face, he had all the qualities of a good-looking man before he became infected. Now his humanity was gone, replaced with the animal side that the Hunter brought out. Pity panged at Eliza's heart, the infection had ravaged everything, left nothing untouched.

She quickly finished her handiwork and stood up off of him, Buck following to do the same. The Hunter immediately rolled onto his back and sat up, undoing the string with a simple swipe of his mutated teeth. Fearing the worst, she stepped back to give him some room. But he did not pounce, or even growl. Instead, he flexed his shoulder, glancing at the stitches and sniffing. She smiled. He was probably wondering what the hell she did to him. She chuckled again, and this time, he did not stiffen at the sound. But he did react when he heard another growl, not from either of her dogs, from her stomach. She was hungry again.

That reminded her; she needed to feed her dogs something other than cereal and chips. They couldn't last on something like that, they needed meat. Even she needed something other than that. Sighing, she picked up her axe and a spare pistol from her bag.

"Buck," she said, "I'm going out hunting. I'll be back in a few minutes. Keep an eye on Fury for me." Normally she went out hunting with Fury, but with him still sleeping off his injuries, she didn't want to push him further than he needed. She would bring back a rabbit or two, enough to sustain them. Before she opened the saferoom door, a growl stopped her. Turning, the Hunter was crouched behind her, gazing up at her.

Shrugging, she merely stated, "If you want to leave, you can. I'm not gonna make you stay here." But the Hunter didn't bolt out the door as soon as she opened it. Instead, he crawled forwards and towards the nearby woods. Turning his head back towards her, he growled and motioned for her to follow. Shaking her head, she shut the saferoom door behind her and followed after him.

'Unbelievable. I'm hunting with a Hunter,' she thought to herself, watching him swiftly crawl along the ground. Even with the sustained injury, he traversed quite well. Most of his strength was in his legs, his arms were just there for support. It probably hurt like a bitch, but being infected gave them an advantage in having a higher pain tolerance than humans. He led her around the groups of infected and straight past the buildings and into the forest.

In the forest, she noted that it was deathly quiet. Not even the sounds of birds echoed through the trees. Life was truly dead, it seemed. It startled her quite a bit when she stepped on a twig; it even startled her Hunter companion. Breath hitched in her throat, her ears rang as she heard the scream of several infected close by. They had heard her too.

'Shit, shit, shit!' her mind screamed, as she readied her pistol. One of the infected, a woman, bolted towards her, mouth gaping and screaming her anger. Before Eliza fired, the Hunter had screamed back in defiance and leapt towards the common, swiping at her with his deadly claws. He tore at her midsection, shredding her clothing and leaving her cranial and caudal portions only attached by the skin on her back. She flopped onto the ground, blood staining the grass. The rest of the commons merely looked back at the Hunter as he crouched in front of Eliza, snarling feral warnings at them. They weren't bright, but they knew not to mess with a Hunter. Quickly as they arrived, they shambled off, looking for easier prey.

Letting out her breath, she panted heavily, knees shaking. Nearly collapsing onto the ground, she glanced towards the Hunter. "Thank you," she gasped. The Hunter merely nodded and turned back. It was quick, and she thought she was imagining it, but Eliza swore she watched as the Hunter rub his jaw against her leg before sauntering off. A smile crept onto her lips. This Hunter was different for sure.

After what seemed like ages, they had finally come across a lone deer. The Hunter managed to kill it with a single bite to the neck, which Eliza was glad for. She didn't like using guns; she believed they attracted the infected to her position due to the noise. He also dragged it back for her, which was another relief. 'Maybe,' she thought to herself, 'It would be helpful to keep this Hunter around. If he wants to stay.'

The two reached the saferoom and were greeted with Buck hopping up and down, tail madly wagging. Fury was still curled up in the nest of clothing, glaring hatefully at the Hunter. Eliza pried the deer carcass away from the Hunter and pulled her knife from her bag to cut it open. The Hunter resumed his position at the corner, not wanting to get near Fury. Not being able to make a fire, she made due in cooking the meat with a spare lighter, cutting chunks of it into two separate containers and setting them down near both of her dogs as they ate happily. She cut herself up some chunks of the meat as well, savouring the flavor. While it certainly wasn't as tasty as the chips or cereal, having hot meat in her stomach quieted the beast within. While both were out, she had also managed to scavenge a few water bottles, using two of them to give to Buck and Fury. Now both were full, and in good time too, as the sun began to set.

Eliza glanced back towards the Hunter, who hadn't moved from his position. She gave him a small smile, as he planted his two hands on the ground and slowly crawled towards the carcass. Fury snarled a warning and he flinched back, but Eliza hushed Fury with a simple touch on his shoulder. She cocked her head back towards the body, as he dug his fingers into the remaining intestines, spearing them with his claws. Sniffing at it, he gave a tentative bite, before lunging into the remains and wolfing it down. Eliza giggled; he was hungrier than he thought, it seemed. The Hunter made quick work of the rest and left nothing but bones. It was disgusting to watch him eat it raw, but cooked meat probably wouldn't settle with him much. He licked at his chops to get the remaining scraps of meat around his teeth, as she poured half of a bottle of water into a bowl and pushed it towards him. He sat back on his haunces and poured the water directly into his mouth, achieving to get most of it around his mouth. It had at least washed most of the blood off his face.

"You know," she started, "I can't keep calling you just you or the Hunter. You need a name, especially if you decide to stick around."  
The Hunter tilted his head towards her.

"Hmm..you needed a lot of stitches..how about...Stitch?"  
He growled in response, but it wasn't an aggressive growl, so she assumed he was okay with it. Smiling, she nodded. "Stitch it is."

The sun finally went below the horizon, as the nighttime chill pierced through them all. Shivering, she slid back on her hoodie and wrapped up her two dogs in some of the leftover clothing. Laying on one of the spare mattresses, she curled up to try and get warm. In the process, she didn't notice the sound of clicking against the concrete as Stitch got closer to her. He hesitated, before he crawled onto the mattress with her. She gasped, not expecting him to come around her, but felt him curl around her, sharing his body heat with her. He had plenty of it, too. His arms wrapped around her as his bloodied chin rested above her head. Her heart very nearly broke again; he was trying to keep her warm. Just like a member of his pack. With the new body heat and a full stomach, she quickly fell asleep.

**Yep, I decided to name my Hunter Stitch! Clever, right? :B**  
**And awh, he's getting sweet! 3**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: This is my last chapter before I head back to school! So be prepared for sporadic updates!  
Also a special thank you to Creation of Hell for such an in-depth review! I hope this next chapter certainly doesn't disappoint~  
Again, reviews make my day, so please read and review!**

The Hunter could feel the strange thing shivering in her sleep. At least he thought it was a she. It certainly smelled like a she, but otherwise was a mixture of everything else. His scent had betrayed him at first; the female Huntress turned out to be a survivor! Cursing himself, a deep growl rolled through him. He no longer could depend on his eyes, which would have given her away at first glance. But the scents coming from the girl confused him; he could smell a tinge of survivor, but even the stupid infected could have a smell like that. For the most part, she had an earthy smell to her, the same as all infected. He noticed though that she lacked the smell of death and decay, which he silently thanked. Being without eyes, his scent and hearing were enhanced greatly by the virus, and being surrounded by the smell of dead bodies rotting in the hot sun made him nearly want to gag.

The survivor groaned in her sleep, flopping onto her stomach, a slight trail of drool slithering from her mouth. The infected frowned; humans were stupid and were meant to be eaten. The voices in his head commanded it. At first, he planned to splatter her delicious, red nectar all over the walls and spear her internal organs like sausages, devouring them as hungrily as a wolf. But a strange creature had attacked him and bitten his shoulder, torn through his defense against the light. The stupid thing would have been taught a lesson about never messing with Hunters, until the human had bitten him as well with her sharp stick. Hers hurt ten times worse than the creature's did. But strangely, she mended his wounds. He chalked it up to pure luck. But he wasn't an ungrateful whelp; in return for healing the wounds she inflicted, he spared her life and helped her to bring down a deer to feast on. The human thing had allowed her packmates to eat first, something he wasn't accustomed to in his old pack. It puzzled him greatly, but that was soon forgotten when he was given the large remainder of the meat and organs, leaving the bones to gnaw it wasn't as tasty as survivor meat, it was meat nonetheless and it filled his belly quickly. When night fell, it was pure habit for him to curl around the alpha to keep them warm; thus he did the same to her.

He found her constant buzzing noises from her mouth annoying, and wanted to shut her up. But with that fierce creature laying so close to them already, he dared not to. The other creature was much more placid; if it was just that one, he could easily kill them both. In the meantime, he was restless. He thought about his pack. His alpha, strong and cruel, especially to him when no one was looking. It was outlawed to go against the alpha in any way, so he was not allowed to tell anybody. He was forbidden from mating, from having his own pup, having the freshest pick of meat. But what was most important was that he was alive. The Hunter didn't like it, but the only way he could survive in this world, being one of the smallest Hunters, was through submission. Although the other pack members treated him well for his services, especially the alpha's mate. No male was allowed to look at her, much less speak with her though. His eyes were the price of that lesson, a price he paid dearly. He remembered the harsh first lesson with Alpha well.

He had just joined up with the pack, newly infected, still learning the ropes of being a Hunter. The only two females of the group, Alpha's mate and her nurse-maid, had found him and brought him in to treat his wounds. Their tongues against his sore cuts and bruises were comforting, to say the least. But Alpha didn't like it, and punished him by clawing out his eyes. If it weren't for the efforts of the nurse-maid, he would have died right there. Some days he still wondered why Alpha even let him stay after that day. Perhaps it was because the pack was relatively small; only five adults. Alpha's pups had already grown enough to move on to their own packs, which was good. Hunter pups never stayed long around their parents, as they tended to get greedy with their kills, feeling a sense of self-entitlement. The extra muscle wouldn't hurt. But the Hunter remembered that lesson for the rest of his life, and avoided Alpha's mate like the plague.

Despite everything, he desperately wanted to go back to them. Not necessarily back to his alpha, but back to his pack. But how long would this strange human be here, in his nest? This was his nest, not hers! If she hadn't cheated...! Grumbling, he rolled away from her, not wanting to touch her anymore. He whined softly at the pressure it caused on his new wound, threaded with strange string to hold it together. He would have ripped it out, if it wasn't so sore and tender already. What were these things she called them? He couldn't understand her language, but a word popped into his head at random. Stitch. Was that what she called him? Stitch was a nice name for him. It made him sound fierce, like he was a battle-scarred warrior. He would go by Stitch from now on. It was one thing that the human did right.

One of the creatures emitted a deep buzzing noise from their mouth as well. It was the fierce one. Stitch tensed, waiting for something to happen and to leap away if needed, but nothing did. The fierce one merely rolled onto it's side. These things were annoying and made him nervous. How badly his claws wanted to tear flesh from their bones!

A ray of moonlight poked through the single window of the saferoom, shining brightly on his nest; a pile of discarded clothing that the more placid one was laying on. Filthy thing was dirtying up his nest! Snarling softly, he pushed himself off the ground and crawled towards the broken window that had allowed him entry before, slithering through it and savouring the smell of fresh dirt and grass. A distant howl echoed; that sounded like Alpha! They were trying to find him! Gleefully, he crouched and within seconds was leaping through the air, crying out in return.

...

Stitch had reached his pack in no time. The infection had granted him immense stamina and lower physical strength, allowing him to cross terrains with ease. The buildings proved to be no trouble at all for him. He caught sight of one of his pack members, a Hunter with a dark purple hoodie, strands of brown hair covering her eyes. It was the nurse that had healed him. He lowered himself to the ground, crawling towards her and whining, nuzzling her chin in a greeting. The kind-hearted Huntress rubbed her nose against his head in a sort-of motherly way, but emitted a growl that worried him. Something about his scent troubled her.

A sudden bark brought both of their attentions behind them; Alpha approached, emitting a low growl as he approached Stitch. His nose twitched madly, teeth bared. The scent coming from Stitch wasn't foreign, he knew exactly what it was.

The smell of Survivor.

Alpha shrieked his accusation, as Stitch whimpered for forgiveness. Nurse pawed at his shoulder, revealing the healing wound, before hissing. The wound reeked of Survivor, enough to infuriate Alpha. He lunged at Stitch, landing with a thump as Stitch managed to roll out of the way. Stitch whined, pleading with Alpha to forgive him, trying his best to explain that he couldn't leave his nest infested with a Survivor and tried to kill her, but Alpha would not have it. Survivors were scum to him.

With Stitch pinned, Alpha quickly brought his punishment to him. Claws dug into Stitch's chest and abdomen, tearing his hoodie and sinking into his flesh, blood splattering against the ground. Stitch cried out in agony, trying to push Alpha off of him. He only managed to get Alpha off when his own clawed hand found it's way to Alpha's face and shredded the right half of his face. Alpha screamed, rolling off and clutching at his face, Stitch managing to get back on all fours, pouring the blood from his front. Glancing back up at him, Stitch saw the damage he had done to Alpha. His own skull was now visible, one eye dangling from it's socket. He wasted no time and leapt off, Alpha screaming out in pure hatred. Stitch was to never come back, and never show his face around Alpha or his territory again.

...

Rain had started to pour down from the skies, upon the dead world below. The moon began to lazily sink down. Below it all, Stitch laid curled up in an abandoned warehouse, whining softly.

He had thankfully managed to stop the bleeding with spare duct tape he had found. He hurt all over, but it didn't compare to how his pride felt. He had been banished from his own pack; a lone Hunter. He was sure to die now. There would be no way he could bring down food by himself! On top of that, his hoodie, his protection against the evil sunlight, had been destroyed. Soon the sun would burn him, and he would really be hurting then. He felt like just laying there to die.

But the virus drove him towards life. He wanted to live, to hunt again. But how? He no longer had a pack, and the nearest pack was hundreds of miles away. His infected brain rattled with ideas, until one word popped into it.

Survivor.

The girl and her two creatures. They were a pack, weren't they? He had hunted with the Survivor successfully, and she attempted to heal his wounds. Surely she could heal him now?

But what if she just shot him? What if she refused? His stomach snarled viciously, demanding fresh meat. Sitting up on his haunches, he emitted a sigh and began to crawl back towards his old den as the sun's rays began to poke out from the horizon.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. He couldn't be alone. He didn't want to be alone. That pack would have to make due until he found another one.

He just hoped her stench wouldn't offend the next pack.


End file.
